'Twas four days before Christmas, and all through the net,
The apocalypse nerds were beginning to fret.
As the old Mayan calendar came to a close,
And Bolon Yokte' from his slumber arose.
His mysterious visage did wax and did wane,
Inside the conspiracy theorists' brains,
Consulting their charts and predicting our doom,
They alerted the world while they paced in their rooms,
Then the clocks all struck midnight and nothing befell,
No matter what anyone thought to foretell,
So they're back to their books to re-check our fate,
And now predict doom in three thousand and eight.
Mokalus of Borg
PS - I couldn't resist composing something like this.
PPS - Especially when all the times coincide nicely.